


Mr Isaacs: DI Britten

by AmethystStarr



Series: Mr Isaacs: A Series of Character Stories [3]
Category: Awake (TV), British Actor RPF, jason isaacs - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26415451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystStarr/pseuds/AmethystStarr
Summary: One woman, one man, five+ lives entwined. Which one is real, and which one will end in death? Was she a history teacher gone back to 1776 to fall in love with a British Dragoon, or was she a mermaid set to marry a famous pirate captain? How many times had they met and yet were still together, yet somehow so far apart?![This is going to be a series based on the many roles of Jason Isaacs. I can't help it, he's such an amazing actor and a really sweet person. I pray to god he nor Emma ever find these or he'll kill me. I had the privilege of working on several films with him as a make-up artist and once as a re-enactor and somehow we've still remained friends. And now a brief message to Jason, just in case he or the girls find these: Please, for the love of god, don't kill me if you ever want me to do a good job on your make-up ever again! Just kidding, you know my imagination! - Love MBD](See Notes at the end for additional information pertaining to this particular story in the series.)
Relationships: Michael Britten/Hannah Britten, Michael Britten/OFC
Series: Mr Isaacs: A Series of Character Stories [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911733
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

This was the fourth or was it fifth, he'd lost count, he'd been to this particular emergency room. His head was throbbing and he was having a hard time concentrating.  
“Well, if it isn't Detective Britten...again,” said a British accent tinged voice. Michael looked up to see the same doctor he'd had the last few times he was in here. “Sorry, it's Inspector, isn't it. I still don't quite understand why only California uses Inspector like back home. But if I didn't know better, I'd say you keep coming back just to see me. Too bad I'm not your doctor this go 'round,” she said. Doctor Scarlette Holmes was a gorgeous woman, even when she was up to her neck in trauma patients.   
“That is too bad,” Michael whinged. “Guess I'll have to get your number another way.” Oh yeah, that was smooth, idiot, he thought to himself. Thankfully, either she didn't hear him, or she ignored his comment.  
“You look terrible, Britten. Are you still not sleeping?” she asked, real concern causing a frown to crease her pretty face. She grabbed his chart and scanned it, put it back on the bed and motioned for him to follow her. “Hailey, I'm taking 22 to triage myself. Tell Riker if he doesn't like it he can kiss my arse, this is my ER now.” The charge nurse smiled at nodded.   
On the way to her office, Holmes grabbed a suture kit.   
“So are you taking me somewhere to kill me?” Britten quipped.   
“Hardly,” she laughed, “It may not look like much, but welcome to my temporary office that also doubles as a triage room when we're swamped.” she said, gesturing for him to take a chair. She sat down next to him and opened the suture kit on her desk. “Remind me, are you squeamish at needles?” Britten made a face. “I'll take that as a maybe.” She took a little bottled and syringed the contents out, “close your eyes if you don't want to see needles coming at your face.”  
“Thanks for the warning,” Michael answered. She stuck the needle in next to his forehead wound and he groaned.  
“Yeah, sorry, this may hurt like a bitch for a minute, then you won't feel a thing,” she said. “So, you wanna tell me what's keeping you up?” she asked after a few minutes. Once she'd started the actual sutures it was done rather quick. Britten thought for a moment. Um I keep waking up in different realities, in one my son is dead, the other my wife is dead and I have no clue which one is real. This one where my wife is gone and my son lives, or the other one, he thought.   
“I was in a car accident a few monthes back,” he began, “My wife didn't make it.” he paused.  
“Go on,” Holmes prompted.   
“It's really eating at me. My son seems fine, he was in the car too, but I can tell something's up. It's like everywere I look she's still there,” and in my other reality she is, “But every time I try to sleep it all comes flooding back,” he lied. “And my cases aren't helping any.”  
“I competely understand. Losing a loved one, espcially one so close to you can take a huge toll on everything, not just your emotional state. In fact, it's one reason I left England and moved here. Something very similar happened to me. My husband and two little girls died. I was working as a coroner at the time and every crime scene I went to afterwards just reminded me of the scene at my own home.” she said. She sat back after putting the last bandage over the stiches. “There was a case I worked that involved a mentally disturbed man. We didn't realize it at the time, he seemed very normal, but someone how he became obsessed with me. When he found out who I was and that I was married with children, he came to my house while I was on another case and murdered my family. I couldn't work after that. For two years I tried to block it out, blamed myself for not being more careful. But the truth was it wasn't my fault and I just couldn't come to terms with that at the time. So I moved to the US, tried to get as far away from reminders of home as I could. So here I am in California and back working as a trauma surgeon and running this ER.”   
“I take it you finally came to terms with it?”  
“It was hard, but yes. I can talk about it now, which makes things so much easier.” Michael watched her face, she did seem very peaceful about everything.  
“Did they put him in a mental asylum or jail?” he asked.  
“They never caught him. As far as I know they're still looking for him. It's another reason I had to get out of the UK,” she replied. “Which brings me to a question, and I never do this, but I'm still very new here and I don't feel my flat-er apartment is very safe. It's not a walkup, all the door s open to an interior, but it still doesn't feel secure enough for me. I thought with you being a detective you could recommend someone,-a company or something-that I could call. I mean, technically, you're not my patient anymore, so if you wanted to talk to someone, I'd be happy to meet you for coffee or something.”  
“I'd like that. Yeah, I've got a guy, he's pretty affordable, not that that's a problem for you, at least I don't think it is. Um...”c'mon Mike, get ahold of yourself! “Here's my card and my personal number, if you need anything,” he jotted down his number on the back of the card and handed it to her. “Anytime, just let me know, Dr Holmes,” he offered.   
“You can call me Scarlette, Detective-sorry-Inspector,” she replied, smiling.  
“And you can call me Michael. Shoot me a text with that guys description or name, if you remember it and I'll put a lookout for him with the beat cops, just in case,” he added.   
“I will. You're all set. You call me the minute you feel worse, understood?”  
“Loud and clear, Doc. Thanks” he rose from his chair and held out his hand. Scarlette smiled and shook it.  
“Out that door and take the right, then the left. Stop by and get your discharge papers from Hailey first, though.” Britten nodded and left her office. God he was cute, she thought, and apparently availible. Ugh, she had sworn off men for the last two years, but Michael Britten made her wonder if maybe she'd not been too firm on that front. 

Two days later as she sat in her kitchen waiting for the microwave to ding, Scarlette's phone rang. It was an unknown number, but she hoped it was the guy Michael said was going to call her about a security system.  
“Hello?” she answered.  
“Hello Katie, did you miss me?” asked a voice from the other end. She gasped. “I've missed you, Katie. Those pretty eyes, those red curls. Why did you run away from me? But now that I'm here, we can be together. You're new job looks like a lot of work, all those patients. I hope that Doctor Riker hasn't laid a hand on you, or he's going to be very sorry. Won't you talk to me, Katie?” Scarlette was frozen as she sat there. “If you don't want to chat, how about I come see you and we can have a face to face, or should I say a heart to heart. Your heart would look so good in my hand, Katie.” Scarlette hit end call and dialed Michael Britten. As it rang, she thought she heard a noise on her balconey.   
“Mozart, is that you? Come see Mama,” she called. Her beagle jumped up and whined at her feet. “Moz?”   
“Hey I was just gonna call you,” Michael said on the other end of the line.   
Even though it was dark already and rather late, Michael was just leaving the precint and getting in his car.  
“Michael, he called me. I don't know how he found my number, but he just called me. He knows where I am!” she cried.  
“Where are you right now?” he asked her.  
“Home-wait, I thought I heard-Oh my God!”  
“Scarlette, talk to me. What's going on?!” he said, trying to hear what was going on. He whipped his car around and headed towards the hospital district. She didn't live too far away and he sped down the boulevard to get there. “Scarlette?! Are you there?! Talk to me!” he pleaded into the phone.   
“Somebody just broke through the glass in my room,” he heard her whisper.  
“Hold on, I'm coming. Hide somewhere. I'll be there in a minute,” he said. Then realized the call had ended.   
As he bounded up the stairs to her floor, he got a text.  
“It's him he's here” it said. Michael pounded on the door,  
“Doctor Holmes?! It's Detective Britten!” he called through the door, making sure that if anyone was in her apartment they could hear he was there. “I'm coming in!” he called as he tried the handle, pulling his gun from it's holster. He opened the door and made his way into the kitchen. “Scarlette? I'm here. Where are you?”   
“Michael?” he heard her voice say softly, as if she was crying.   
“I'm here, honey, where are you?” He looked first in her bedroom, the closet was open and the gladd in the french door was broken. When he didn't find her in there he checked the second bedroom. Carefully he opened the closet door and found Scarlette with her beagle in her lap and a baseball bat held in her white-knuckled hand. “Hey, it's ok. He's gone. You're safe now.” Scarlette dropped the bat and nearly knocked Michael over as she shot into his arms. He hugged her as she cried. “Scarlette, honey, look at me. You're safe now. I'm not gonna leave you alone, alright?” he said. She nodded. “Help me pack a bag, you're staying with me tonight. We'll deal with this in the morning, ok?” Again Scarlette nodded and wiped her face. The dog sniffed the ground and pawed his shoe. Just next to his foot lay a piece of paper. Michael stepped back and knelt, “Hey, do you hav a pair of tweezers?” he asked. Scarlette nodded and went in search of them. As it happened, she had a pair of hemastats just lying on the kitchen counter. She grabbed them and came back, crouching to see what he was looking at. It was a piece of paper with writing on it, but it was facing the floor. Michael took the hemastats and picked up the piece of paper. The dog sniffed it and growled.  
“Mozart, no,” Scarlette said, pulling him back. “What is it?” she asked. Michael pulled a plastic bag from his jacket pocket. He put the paper inside it and sealed it, handing the hemastats back to Scarlette.   
“Looks like your name, number, and address. Writings kinda messy, but there's quotation marks around your name, and what looks like it says Katie on the top corner,”  
“Scarlette is my midle name,” she said, and turned away.   
“I take it Katie is your real name?” Michael asked. Scarlette nodded and hugged herself, trying not to cry again,  
“I was born Katie Scarlette Watson,” she said. “Adam's last name was Watson too, so I never had to change it.” Her words were clear, but her voice was strained and quiet at the same time. “I have a go-bag ready just in case there's an emergency at the hospital. It's ready to go. Let me just get Mo's leash.” Michael put the plastic bag in his pocket and followed her back to the kitchen. She grabbed the leash, a blue rolling suitcase, and a small tupperware of what looked like it might be dog food.   
“Got everything? He asked as she clipped the leash to the beagle's collar. Scarlette nodded. Michael took the suitcase from her and followed her out.   
The car ride to his house was silent, and he let her remain so. He showed her and Mozart to the guest bedroom and let her close the door behind him. He went to his own room, scrubbing at his face. He should have called it in immediately, he shouldn't have gone in alone. What if the perp had found Scarlette and was holding a gun on her. Shit, he wouldn't have forgivin himself if anything has happened to her. He tried to sleep, but it wouldn't come. Normally, when he laid down, it was almost instantaneous that he woke in the other reality. This time he got up and paced the living room. Finally going to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of milk, hoping it would help.   
“Couldn't sleep either?” he asked as he saw Scarlette round the corner. She shook her head. “Milk?” he offered as a joke.  
“Yes, please,” she answered. “It used to help me when I was a kid. Put a little cinnamon in mine,” she added. Michael did as she asked, then added some to his own. He handed her the cup and led her to the sofa. She curled up on one end and he on the other, stretching his legs out on the chaise. They drank their milk in silence.   
“Hmm, not bad,” he said after he tasted his. “I might learn to like this.” Scarlette smiled sat her empty cup on the coffee table. Michael flipped on the TV. As luck would have it Gone with the Wind was on. She heard Gerald O'Hara talking to his daughter. She snorted when he called her Katie Scarlette. “Ahhh,” Michael said quietly, “I get it now.” Scarlette blushed. “So where does the Holmes come from-wait, lemme guess, Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson?”   
“We have a winner!” Scarlette teased. “Guilty as charged, Inspector.”   
“Wow, Nurse Hailey was right, you really are a nerd.” he laughed. He finished off his milk and set the cup next to Scarlette's, then settled back, his arms stretched across the back of the sofa. In a few moments they heard a clap of thunder followed by lightning. Startled, Scarlette crawled across the sofa.   
“Looks like a storms coming,” Michael said absently, surprised to turn back and find Scarlette suddenly so close to him.  
“Sorry, I'm just not ok with being alone right now. Mozart's one thing, but-”  
“Hush, it's ok. C'mere,” he said, putting his arm around her and letting her rest her head on his shoulder. Mozart came and jumped up on the sofa and curled up on the end of the chaise.   
“Thank you, Michael. I feel much safer with you,” she said, lifting up a little to kiss his cheek.   
“You missed,” he whispered, his lips centimeters from her skin. He leaned down and gently kissed her lips. When they parted, she snuggled into his side and promptly fell asleep. It wasn't long before he found himself waking up in his other reality.   
For a moment, he was confused, then a little mad at himself. He was beginning to develop feelings for this doctor, and he needed to find her in this reality. In this reality, his wife had begun to pull away from him. And in a way he understood why. Losing their son had been hard on her, and he'd not been so understanding at times. He dressed and on the way to work, he stopped by the hospital. He saw the charge nurse at the desk,  
“Hi, Hailey is it?” She looked a little confused for a minute. “I'm Detective Inspector Britten, I'm here to see Doctor Holmes,” he said. She looked even more confused. “Doesn't a Doctor Scarlette Holmes run the ER and Trauma unit here?”  
“Sir, we don't have a Doctor Holmes at this hospital.”  
“Um, maybe I got the name wrong then. What about a Doctor Katie Watson?”  
“I'm sorry detective, but we don't have a doctor by either of those names here. Holmes and Watson, huh? Sounds a little like a joke. Try Mothodist across the street maybe?” she offered.  
“Thank you, I'll do that,” he laughed her comment off. He was a little worried. Instead of going across the street he called a friend at another precinct. “Hey, Fuller, look, I've got a little favor to ask....Yeah, can you run a search for a Doctor Scarlette Holmes, and or a Doctor Katie Watson. Maybe check international databases too? ...Yeah, yeah, no, not a joke...ok, great...no, just call me or email them to me, yeah?” he hung up.   
At around 3:15, he got a notification for a new email. In it was an article from two yers ago, the London Times. “Well loved London doctor and family murdered in broad daylight,” it read. He read the article twice, just to be sure of what it said. He pushed his chair away from the desk in disgust and stalked to the bathroom. There was a lump in his throat that made it hard to breath. He punched the metal paper towel holder. It was like a punch to the heart, mixed with a sick feeling. He'd become so attached so quickly. Was he falling in love with her in his other reality so quickly, that it still hurt him so bad in this reality. Here he was still married, there they were both free and could be together. It made him want to protect her even more now. But he couldn't here, she was already beyond his help, and it hurt so badly. He composed himself and returned to his desk. He carried on with his duties the rest of the day, but the lump in his throat, that pain in his heart persisted.   
That night, his wife must have taken something because she was extremely amorous, but his heart wasn't in it. In fact, he had a hard time going to sleep that night.


	2. Chapter 2

When Michael woke in his other life, he found himself still lying on the sofa. But Scarlette was no where to be seen. He rubbed his face. A beagle bounded up and licked his face.  
“Hey buddy, where's your mom?” he said. Mozart bounced down and headed towards the kitchen. Michael sat up and turned to look over the back of the sofa. There she was, cooking something on the stove and humming. She was still in a thin t-shirt and super short pajama shorts, but she was gorgeous. Michael quietly got up and walked to the kitchen and stood just watching her at the corner of the table. She nearly screamed when she saw him just standing there.  
“God, you scared me,” she replied, trying to calm herself down. “I didn't wake you did I?”  
“Not at all. What smells so good?” he asked. She turned to stir something then pour it into a pan.  
“Omelets, bacon, British toast, and sausage,” she replied. He walked up behind her and put his hands on her hips. She stilled.  
“You found all that in the pantry?” he asked, his lips were so close to her ear it sent a shiver down her spine. He felt her tremble and turned him on.  
“Most of it,” came her breathless answer. He squeezed her hips and she instinctively arched into him. He kissed her neck and she sighed heavily. “Michael...” she whispered.  
“Hmm,” he hummed.  
“We can't. The food'll burn,” she said.  
“Let it,” he whispered back, sucking on her pulse point. He let his hands slide forward, pulling her gently back against his body, letting her feel what she was doing to him. Her head lolled back and he captured her mouth with his, kissing her deeply as his arms wrapped around her. Then she cried out. Absently, she'd let her hands fall and one had touched the hot stove.  
“Fuck!” she yelled. “Ow ow ow ow,” she ran for the sink, while Michael went for the ice,  
“Shit...I'm sorry” he said, putting the ice on her hand and holding them over the sink. “Dammit, and you're a surgeon. You need your hands,”   
“Michael, it's alright, I'll be fine. It's not bad, go sit down and I'll finish breakfast, then you can wash up to make up for distracting me,” Scarlette said.   
“I think I can do that. We need to go to the precinct today to file a report about last night. Is that alright with you? I mean are you feeling up to it?” he said, sitting down at the table as Scarlette set a cup of coffee in front of him.  
“Sugar,” she said.  
“Pardon?” he asked, looking a bit confused.  
“Do you want sugar in your caf?” she asked again.  
“Oh...I thought you were calling me sugar...No, I take it black,” he replied, taking a drink from the cup to hide his embarrassment.  
“Would you like that, Sugar?” she teased. Michael smiled, he kinda liked the way it sounded when she said it. I'd like some of that sugar, he thought. She plated the food and slid into a chair across from him.   
“This is delicious,” he said around a mouthful of food.  
“Don't talk with your mouth full, Sweetheart,” Scarlette teased him. He snorted and swallowed.  
“Sorry, it's just, wow. You perform surgery, you save lives, you can cook like a domestic goddess, is there anything you can't do?” he asked. Scarlette grinned.   
“Apparently keep a guy interested in me. Every single relationship after my late husband has ended as soon as I tell them my family was murdered,” she quipped. Michael reached for her hand, his fingers gently grasping hers.  
“Then you haven't met the right one, yet,” he replied, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment they just looked at each other, softly smiling, Michael's fingers gently tracing invisible lines on her hand. Scarlette drew her hand back and rose from her chair, taking her empty plate with her,  
“Maybe I have...” she mused. “I believe clean up was your duty,” she said over her shoulder, putting her plate in the sink and reaching to pour another cup of coffee. He grinned and picked up his almost clean plate and empty coffee cup,  
“I believe you are correct, Madame. But something is bothering me,” he said, putting his dishes with hers in the sink. Michael gently pushed Scarlette up against the counter, his body keeping her from escaping. This time they were far away from the stove.   
“And that would be?” she asked, her interest peaked.   
“I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something I dearly love about you,” he whispered, his face centimeters from hers, “and I think I need to taste your lips again to make sure just exactly what it is.” Scarlette didn't wait, she met his mouth with hers. His hands roamed her hips and backside as she wrapped her arms around his neck. With very little coaxing, he wrapped Scarlette's legs around his waist and picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom and closing the door behind them. His only words once he'd laid her on the bed, “Are you sure you want this?” Her answer,  
“I desperately want you, Michael,” she replied. They spent the next two hours in that bed, learning each other's body, taking each other higher and higher until they were exhausted.   
Once they'd recovered, they showered and dressed, then headed to the station.

**Author's Note:**

> This one may end up being a multi-chapter as I really like writing for this pair. I need to rewatch the show so I can make sure little details are right. Which means this will probably get a re-write once I do that!!
> 
> Don't forget to leave me a comment if you're so inclined, and TY in advance.


End file.
